Trsyt

by Shaniel Watson

  “My daughter has turned into such a prude since she's gone away to college.” Mom laughs.

  If she only knew the truth, she'd stop talking. This thing with Ian and me, listening to my mother try to set my aunt up with my lover, trying to avoid a conversation about their sex life before me, and keeping this secret from them all is tying me up in all kinds of knots.

  I roll over in bed Sunday morning around eleven o'clock. I usually don't sleep in this late, but after the spa, Mom and Aunt Callie thought it would be fun to go out for drinks and dinner. I agreed to go only if they didn't bring up my boss for the rest of the night. Luckily, my mother dropped the matchmaking for Aunt Callie and Ian.

  A couple of drinks in and they thought it would be fun to find me a nice hot guy. Yeah, my night was complete with finding something wrong with every guy so I wouldn't have to talk to them. We all had one too many drinks, and I slipped up and told them I already have someone, who is older than me. They wouldn't stop badgering me until I said I was lying to get them to stop trying to pick up guys for me. What a night.

  My phone rings, and I roll over on my stomach without checking to see who's calling. “Hello.”

  “Can you come over?” Ian asks

  “Hey, sexy. You're calling me on a Sunday morning.” I rub my eyes and stretch. It’d be nice to have his warm body next to mine. “Is there a work emergency? Did I mess something up in the office?”

  “No. I want to see you. Meet me at my place,” he says nonchalantly.

  “You‘ve never invited me over to your house to have sex—not once. The only places we have sex is at work or the occasional hotel room.” Yeah, I've noticed how he makes sure he doesn't take me anywhere that is too personal to him. Almost like a barrier to keep us from getting too emotionally attached, and blurring the lines between the arrangement we have.

  “Jade, that's not all I want from you.”

  “Isn't it? You haven't said otherwise.”

  “Maybe I want to make up for overreacting on Friday. Let me. Come over. I won't ask again.”

  I love when he gets that commanding tone in his voice, something I'm not used to from the guys I've been with. “Well then, how could I turn down your congenially stern invitation? What time should I be there and should my attire be more pussycat play or business casual, sir?”

  “If your mouth keeps up with the smart talk, I'll put something in it to straighten it out real fast. Maybe you'll learn your lesson for smarting off with a sore jaw from the endless sucking you do so well, Ms. Hollister.”

  Who's he kidding? That is not a punishment, more of a reward. “If that's my punishment, then I say fuck you, sir.”

  “Nice try. But don't worry your pretty little head, that scene will happen. Prepare for an extra long coffee run come Monday morning. As for now, be here at three. Wear whatever you like. I'm sure you'll be beautiful, as always.”

  Sometimes he surprises me by saying the sweetest things.

  Two-thirty on the dot I'm buzzed up to his condo in the sky, in a pale blue floral sundress, kitten heel sandals, and my wavy hair loose over my shoulders. He opens the door with a smile, which curls my toes. He looks great as usual, bright green eyes popping with the same color as his button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up, chinos, boat shoes, and a Piguet watch. He smells wonderful. I would love to bottle his scent and take it back with me at the end of this.

  His eyes take in every inch of my body as if he's committing it to memory. Caressing over and under the curve of my breast, down to the dip in my waist over my hips, to my bare legs.

  “I take it you like what you see.” I turn in a full circle showing off the goods he enjoys.

  He pulls me into his arms laying a breath-stealing kiss on me, leaving me licking my lips when he releases me. “I love what I see. You never disappoint.”

  “Are you firing me? Is that what's going on?“ I joke. “What's with all the compliments and sweet talk?”

  He chuckles softly kissing my cheek. “I would never fire you. You're the best-damned intern I've ever had—it's not because of the sex. And before your mind starts working overtime, it hasn’t happened before and won't be happening again.”

  I smile, and give him a brief kiss on the lips. “Good, now what's this all about?”

  “You.”

  “Me?” My brows pull together. “Is this like a date? I thought we didn't do that, wasn't our thing?”

  “It is today. No more questions.” He closes the door and leads me to the elevator.

  We stand side by side, but out of my peripheral vision, I see him watching me.

  I bite the side of my lip, trying not to smile like a lunatic. It's not working. “What?” I say.

  “I think it's cute you're trying to hide the smile your lips are twitching to let spread across your face.” He smiles.

  I run my hand up his chest. “I don't know what we're going to do, but whatever it is, I know it's going to make me happy. So thank you.”

  “So sure of me are you. What if you hate it?”

  “I won't. I trust you.”

  One floor before our stop he wraps his arm around me. His eyes pierce through me sending sparks firing as he threads his fingers through my hair. His lips brush against mine. I inhale his scent when he takes control of the kiss, going deeper with strong, firm lips molding over mine.

  Sometimes I fight him and the heat building between us, I know he likes the tease in me, but this time I let it happen. I let the feelings sink down deep. Tingles ping in my stomach wandering down between my legs. My bare thighs rub together. A little moan escapes me when the doors open wide, and a stream of sunlight hits us coming directly from across the front doors. “Mm…”

  “We should go. Before I change my mind and bend you over right here.”

  “I don't mind getting arrested for the right reasons.”

  He smirks. “Your father would kill me.” He grabs my hand. “Let's go.”

  I giggle, keeping up with the strides of his long legs.

  I‘m having the best day. We’re in the Bronx, City Island. A thirty-minute drive away, but it feels like we were transported from the noise and hectic pace of a big city, to a quaint New England town. I now know why his perfect date would be on a boat. He's a member of the yacht club, but doesn't own a boat. He uses one of the club’s boats and takes me sailing. Gliding through the water, watching him steer the boat, and pull up the sails, has me enthralled.

  I wouldn't have thought I could find anything remotely interesting about a lesson on sailing and boats, but he makes everything that much more interesting. Watching him concentrate on the task at hand, and still find time to answer all my questions, gives me a warm feeling. So different from our often quick interludes in and out of the office.

  My sunglasses on, I'm at the front of the boat staring out at the water while the sun shines down on me. I take in the serene beauty and cool, warm breeze with the spray of salt water.

  “Are you enjoying our little cruise?” he says at my ear, sitting down behind me. His arms come around my stomach pulling me back to his firm chest.

  “I am.” I take a deep breath breathing in the air, and smile. “It’s relaxing. I'm a high seas gal.”

  He laughs. “It’s not exactly the high seas. I noticed you were in deep contemplation over here. Mind if I ask about what?”

  “How I'm having a great time with you. This was a surprise. Thank you for bringing me here with you.”

  “You're so easily won over. Don't be. The day isn't over.”

  “Oh, there's more?” My eyebrows lift, wondering what more could there be.

  “There is more. Sit tight, our two hour cruise is almost up, so I'm going to turn the boat around.”

  “Okay,” I say happy but wondering what brought this on, wanting to expand our relationship. I turn my head, kissing him on the cheek.

  “What's that for?”

  “Because I felt like it.” He smiles that smile of his—the one that makes me feel gushy in
side. The one that makes me want to smile even if I don't want to. “Get back to work, Captain.” He walks off giving me a salute.

  Right now I don't care why we're out here. The only thing that matters is I’m here with him. That means he's letting me in, he's seeing us together in a different light, and this has to mean more than just a summer fling.

  After he docks the boat back at the yacht club, he takes me to our next destination to eat. “Sailing and dinner too. You're pulling out all the stops, aren't you? Now I'm really convinced you're going to fire me.” I laugh taking a sip of my drink.

  “It will never happen. I'm afraid you're stuck with me till your internship is up.”

  The smile on my face falters.

  “What's the matter?” he asks. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, no. You've said all the right things.” Up until then. “Something I had to do for work tomorrow crossed my mind. It's not important now.”

  “Good. No more thinking about work, especially if it's going to put that look on your face.”

  “You're right.”

  Our waiter comes over and as I'm about to order Ian says, “May I?” Tilting my head toward the menu I say yes to his request, uncertain if he'll pick something I’ll like, but give him the chance to try and impress me even more if that‘s possible. He has already done such a great job from the boat ride, to bringing me here for dinner. This was not spontaneous; he put some thought and planning into this day.

  I've heard of the restaurant, Don Coqui, seen it from pictures of stars like Jennifer Lopez and Khloe Kardashian eating here. The space is open and airy with white walls and high ceilings. A marble bar, hardwood floors, and white linen tablecloths with tables set for two, facing a beautiful view of the water that would be equally as beautiful at sunset. This is all amazing, and he's doing it with me and not Aunt Callie or anyone else.

  Me.

  Our waiter returns with our order and places a succulent plate of seafood paella in front of me with shrimp, lobster, clams, mussels, calamari, chicken, and chorizo over a bed of yellow rice. He knows what I like, this is what I would have picked also. I take a bite and the flavors spread through my mouth, snapping my taste buds to life. I wouldn't admit this to my mother, but this paella is better than my grandmother’s recipe.

  Near the end of the meal I had to ask, “So…you and Callie?”

  “There is no me and Callie.” He twirls linguine onto his fork with the spoon.

  “My mother thinks there could be a future for both of you.” I try to keep the agitation out of my voice. I've been trying not to think about them, and if maybe they have unresolved feelings for each other since the conversation at the spa yesterday. After all, she's the one who broke up with him.

  “That was a long time ago, and we have both moved on. I told your mother as much when I spoke to her today.”

  My eyebrows rise. “Why would my mother call you?”

  “She wanted to see if I would be receptive to dinner with Callie at your place. She's been trying to get us together since that weekend in June, so I explained that I am perfectly happy. I spoke to Callie before I left that weekend, and we agreed being friends was best.”

  “Friends like us or without the benefits?” My lips twist up.

  He smirks. “Without.”

  I want to jump on the table give a shimmy and a shake. “Cool. How did my mother take it?”

  He sets his hands on the table palms up to me. I put my fork down placing my hands on his, loving the strength and the feel of his touch. “She was disappointed, but she said it would be nice if I came over for dinner anyway, so she set it up. Then I had to make an excuse to get off the phone when she started talking about the beautiful women she knew who would be ready to settle down with a man like me.”

  I smile. “Nothing is going to deter her agenda. Right now that sounds like finding you the right woman.” I smile through the words, so he doesn't know how much it affects me.

  “I know how to get around it though. I can't be caught if I don't want to be.”

  Don't I know it.

  “Look over to your right,” he says.

  The sun is setting in hues of orange and yellow; the window framing it like a beautiful work of art. “It is awe-inspiring.”

  “It is.”

  He squeezes my hand, and I affectionately squeeze back. “This is the perfect ending to the day.”

  “The day’s not over.”

  “It isn't?” I perk up with excitement.

  “Of course not. What would dinner be without dessert?”

  “What are we having? Did you order it already?” I'm a dessert kind of girl. If I could have it before dinner, I would.

  “Dessert is off the premises.” He raises his hand stroking his thumb across my bottom lip.

  “Oh, that kind of dessert. Well, you know I'm all for that. Making your body my dessert with a can of whipped cream is worth waiting for.”

  “Why, Ms. Hollister.” He schools his face into a shocked and appalled expression. “Get your mind out of that gutter. You're a lady, and I'm a gentleman, for the day.” He smiles like the fox he is, licking his lips suggestively.

  I laugh and dip my finger into my glass of sangria. “I wish you weren't.“ I stick my finger in my mouth, then slowly suck it off pressed between my lips. “This lady says you can take a quick break from your gentlemanly duties. I think we need a bathroom break.” I lick my lips, stroking the back of his hand. “Come on, you know you want to.”

  “Oh, Ms. Hollister, you naughty girl.” He laughs, leaning across the table, and presses a too-short firm kiss on my lips. “Let's go before you corrupt me anymore.” He pays the bill, then takes my hand, and we’re out the door.

  After a quick drive, we stand in front of a quaint little ice cream parlor, which reminds me of the green houses that go on the monopoly board game. But the windows and doors are white, with wood siding instead of plastic.

  Two small round tables, occupied by people, are on the sidewalk. There is a small colorful children's table with kids enjoying their cold treats. The heat melts the ice cream faster than they can eat it, and they are loving every sticky minute of it.

  I smile at him loving the feel of the family-friendly atmosphere. “We could have had ice cream at the restaurant.”

  “We could have, but this is one of the best. I only do the best.” He puts his arm around my shoulder.

  “I'll take your word for it tonight, especially since it sounds like you’re giving me a compliment.”

  “Like you had a choice, and it is a compliment. Come.”

  “I do, every time,” I tease.

  “Watch yourself, Ms. Hollister, as you can see this isn't the place for that sort of talk.” He leans into my ear brushing his lips against my skin. “No shenanigans and sexy fuckery from you. Beside, it's been a long day. I don't think you'll be able to handle the beast down below tonight.”

  I burst out laughing. “I mean, you’re impressive, but that's a bit much, wouldn't you say?”

  “Hell no. Go big every time. Even bigger in the retelling.”

  I look at him wide-eyed. “Be careful, false advertising like that might get you cut.” I shake my head, and we both laugh.

  Inside is a mix of cheery green and pink stripes. The short line moves fast, and I ask the guy behind the counter, “Which flavor do you like best?”

  “It’s personal preference for everyone.” He smiles. “But my favorite is the birthday bash. It’s three scoops of ice cream, pink, and white with blue, and green in a large waffle cone.”

  “Sound good to me, that's what I'll have.” As soon as he hands it to me, I lick the cone moaning my approval. “Mm…Thank you.”

  His startled voice raises an octave as he intently watches me. “Mmm…No, thank you.”

  Ian clears his throat and puts his arm around me, pulling me closer to his side. He places his order a bit too tersely, squinting at the guy.

  I give him an elbow to the rib
when the guy moves down the row of ice creams to scoop out Ian's order. I whisper, “You could be more pleasant.”

  “I was pleasant enough.” He stares at me.

  Men. I roll my eyes at his unreasonable demeanor.

  He mumbles a gruff thank you to the guy, takes his cone, and pays. We walk out and he says, “It’s your fault. You can't go around licking things, moaning, and not expect a reaction from the man you’re with, seeing the reaction of a guy who wants you to lick him like that damn cone. Blame yourself for the reactions in there.” He huffs, shaking his head at me.

  “You're full of it,“ I say ignoring his attitude, and still in a good mood because I think his jealous streak has to do more with him than me. Because I know I haven't given him cause to be jealous. “You want to sit?”

  “The only seats are next to the little people with sticky hands.” He scrunches up his nose then licks his cone. “Let's walk.”

  “Suit yourself. I don't mind sticky hands.” One of the little girls smiles at me, and I smile back. “They're cute.“

  He takes my hand, I link my fingers with his, and I feel brave enough to broach the subject while we walk along the sidewalks lined with little shops. “I go back in two weeks.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you going to miss me?”

  “Sure.”

  ‘Sure‘ is the answer you give when asked if you want mashed potatoes for dinner. If someone asks you if you're going to miss them, it's a clear yes or no. ‘Sure‘ is to pacify people when you don't want to go into further detail. He might as well say, ‘Sure, now be quiet.’ I sigh heavily and try to walk ahead of him. But he holds tight to my hand. “Of course I'm going to miss you.” He blows out a long frustrated breath.

  “Then why can't you just say it? Three simple words. I'll miss you.”

  “You know I'm going to miss you. Why do I need to say it?”

  “Because I need to hear it. I need to know I'm more than sex to you. This isn't permanent, but I need to know I'm more than a convenient lay. I've come to think of you as more than that. You're a friend I can confide in.”

  “Jade, of course, you're more than a convenient lay. I like you a hell of a lot. You're smart and funny. This day should prove to you that I care. I care about your feelings, and I want to see the best for you. But you are so much younger than me, and I know age shouldn't matter, but in our case and with my history with your family it does. And I live here, and you live in LA. You're going back to college, and I don't do long distance in any capacity.”